Bahama Crisis. Desmond Bagley
if you could identify the crewman.’
I said dully, ‘I didn’t see him.’
Perigord said, ‘We have asked questions at the marinas with no luck at all. The trouble is that the marinas have, literally, a floating population.’ He repeated that, appreciating the double edge. ‘Yes, a floating population – here today and gone tomorrow. Nobody has been reported missing because everybody is missing, sooner or later. It makes police work difficult. We have also checked from the other end by asking Mr Albury’s friends if he had been seen talking to a stranger. Again, no luck.’
Debbie said, ‘He might not have been a stranger.’
‘Oh, yes, I think he was,’ said Perigord confidently. ‘I think he was a beach bum, one of the young Americans who hitchhike around the islands on the cheap and are willing to crew for anyone if it gives them a leg further. I think this one was going home.’
‘Then he might be on an American missing persons list,’ she remarked.
‘Why should he be?’ asked Perigord. ‘He’s only been gone a week, and he’s probably a footloose young man, a social drop-out. In any case, in which American city do we ask? And with no name and no face how do we operate?’
My brain started to work creakily. Perigord had said something which aroused my ire. ‘You said you couldn’t explain how Sue came to be on Cat Island to my satisfaction. Does that mean that you are satisfied?’ I was becoming enraged at Perigord because I knew he was holding something back.
That got to him. ‘By God, Mr Mangan, I am not satisfied. It gives me no satisfaction to sit here and pass on bad news, sir.’
‘Then what’s all the bloody mystery? Is it because I am a suspect? If I am then say so. Am I to be accused of blowing up my own boat?’
My voice had risen to a shout and I found myself shaking. Again Debbie held my arm, and said, ‘Take it easy, Tom.’
‘Take it easy? There’s been something damn funny going on right from the start.’ I stabbed a finger at Perigord. ‘No one can tell me that a Deputy-Commissioner of Police does his own legwork when a boat goes missing. Especially when he brings a narcotics officer with him. Perigord, I’m well-known in Government circles, and if you don’t come across I’ll be over in Nassau talking to Deane, your boss, and a few other people and you won’t know what hit you.’
Perigord made a curious gesture as though to brush away an irritating fly. ‘I assure you that the police are treating this with the utmost seriousness. Further, the Government is serious. And alarmed, I might add. The Attorney General, acting under direct instruction from the Prime Minister, is putting very heavy pressure on me – as much as I can stand – and I don’t need any more from you.’
‘But you’ll damn well get it,’ I said. ‘Good Christ, this is my family we’re talking about!’
He stopped being impervious and his voice softened. ‘I know – I know.’ He stood up and went to the window, looking out on to East Mall in silence and with his hands clasped tightly behind his back. He stood there for a long time evidently having difficulty in making up his mind about something.
Presently he turned and said quietly, ‘I suppose if I were in your position I would feel and act as you do. That’s why I’m going to tell you something of what is happening in the Bahamas. But I’ll want your discretion. I don’t want you going off half-cocked and, above all, I want your silence. You must not talk about what I’m about to tell you.’
Debbie rose to her feet. ‘I’ll leave.’
‘No,’ said Perigord. ‘Stay, Miss Cunningham.’ He smiled. ‘Mr Mangan will want to talk to someone about this; he wouldn’t be human if he didn’t, and his confidante might as well be you. But I’ll need the same assurance of your silence.’
Debbie said, ‘You have it.’
‘Mr Mangan?’
I thought Perigord was every bit as good an amateur psychologist as Mike Pascoe. ‘All right.’
He returned to his seat at the desk. ‘It is not normal for a well-found boat to vanish in a calm sea, and the enquiries made before I took over the case gave us the assurance that Lucayan Girl was a very well-found boat with more than the usual complement of safety equipment. She was very well-equipped, is that not so?’
‘I made it so,’ I said.
Perigord examined the backs of his hands. ‘There have been too many boats going missing these past few years. There has been much ill-informed and mischievous talk about the so-called Bermuda Triangle of which we are in the centre. The Bahamian Government, however, does not believe in spooks – neither do the insurance companies. The Government is becoming most worried about it.’
‘Are you talking about piracy?’ said Debbie unbelievingly.
‘Just that.’
I had heard the rumours, as I suppose every other Bahamian had, and it had been a topic in some of the American yachting magazines. I said, ‘I know there was piracy around here in the old days, but these boats aren’t treasure ships – they’re not carrying gold to Spain. I suppose you could sell off bits and pieces – radar, radio, engines, perhaps – but that’s chicken feed, and dangerous, too. Easy to detect.’
‘You’re right. Your boat is probably on the sea bed by now, with all its equipment intact. These people are not going to risk selling a few items for a few dollars. Mr Mangan, I think we’re dealing with coke smugglers, and I don’t mean Coca-Cola – I mean cocaine. It comes through here from South America and goes to the States. Some heroin, too, but not much because we’re not on that route. Some marijuana, also, but again not much because it’s too bulky.’
He nodded and gestured towards the large map of the Bahamas on the wall. ‘Look at that – 100,000 square miles of which only five per cent is land. If the land were conveniently in one place our task would be easier, but there are thousands of cays. An area the size of the British Isles with a population of 220,000. That’s what we have to police.’
He walked over to the map. ‘Take only one small group.’ His arm slashed in an arc. ‘The Ragged Island Range and the Jumentos Cays – 120 miles long with a total population of 200, mostly concentrated in Duncan Town in the south. Anyone could bring a boat in there with a nine nines certainty of not being seen even in daylight. They could land on Flamingo Cay, Water Cay, Stoney Cay – or any one of a hundred others, most of which don’t even have names. And that’s just one small chain of islands among many. We could turn our whole population into police officers and still not have enough men to cover.’
Debbie said, ‘How does piracy come into this?’
‘It’s not called piracy any more, although it is,’ said Perigord tiredly. ‘It’s become prevalent enough to have acquired its own name – yacht-jacking. They grab a boat and sail it out of the local area, fast. A quick paint spray job of the upperworks takes care of easy identification. They head for the cay where the cocaine is hidden and then run it to the States. Once the cocaine is ashore they usually sink the boat; sometimes they may use it for a second run, but not often. And you know how many we’ve caught?’ He held up a single finger.
‘And for that they murder the crew?’ I demanded.
‘Do you know what the profits are, Mr Mangan? But normally the boats are stolen from a marina and there are no deaths. That’s easy enough considering the informality of most boat owners and the laxity of the average marina.’
‘Lucayan Girl wasn’t stolen from a marina.’
Perigord said deliberately, ‘When a man like you sends his wife and small daughter to sea with a crewman he has never seen and whose name he doesn’t know he’s asking for trouble.’
He had not come right out and said it, but he was implying that I was a damn fool and I was inclined to agree with him. I said weakly, ‘But who could